Now the reporter’s eyes widened. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Can’t believe the Fourth Estate haven’t cottoned on to it, if I’m being honest.’ Rebus pretended to be interested in whatever lay beyond the window. ‘If you were to publish something by day’s end, you’d have an exclusive.’
Blake gave him an appraising look. ‘Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing. You’ll fight tooth and nail for your daughter.’
‘I’m not bullshitting you, Lawrie. Everything I’ve told you can be fact-checked. All the years I was a cop, I learned that coincidences are as rare as unicorns.’
‘You don’t believe in unicorns?’
‘I believe in Samantha. Put what I’ve told you online or don’t, it’s up to you.’
‘Do I name my source?’
‘If you do, I’ll run you over in a cheap-deal two-door rental.’ Rebus drained the last of his coffee, then realised his phone had pinged with a message. It was from Creasey.
She needs a lift back. If you can’t do it, might take a while.
‘I have to go,’ he told Blake. He took out a pen and scrawled his number on the thin paper napkin, sliding it across the table. ‘Nice doing business with you.’
Samantha looked less than thrilled to see him waiting for her as she stepped out of the building.
‘All they said was that my lift was outside.’
‘I happened to be passing,’ Rebus said. ‘But if you’d rather wait for a uniform to take you…’
She stepped forward and gave him the briefest of hugs, her head pressing into his shoulder, then followed him wordlessly to the car.
‘You’ve junked the Saab?’ she asked as she fastened her seat belt.
‘It’s just having a bit of a holiday.’ He kept his eyes on the windscreen. ‘How did it go in there?’
‘How do you think?’
‘It’s a game they have to play, Samantha, that’s all.’
‘It’s not a game to me, Dad,’ she said coldly.
‘Did you tell them about the fight you had the night Keith died?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ He sensed her looking at him. ‘Means they might have some hard questions for Hawkins and his group.’ He turned towards her. ‘Think about it–where else was Keith going to go after he stormed out?’
‘The camp, obviously. He felt safe there. Said it was like a second home.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Now can we please get going?’
They drove in silence after that, Rebus getting used to the rental car’s foibles and controls, Samantha finding a radio station whose signal didn’t fade for the first part of the journey. When all that was left was static, she slotted home the CD, studying the track list. ‘Who did this?’
‘Old colleague of mine called Siobhan.’
‘She has catholic tastes–Mogwai and Orange Juice?’ She thought for a moment. ‘Keith was a big Mogwai fan.’
‘He liked his music? I didn’t see much evidence in the house.’
‘No one needs albums these days, Dad.’
‘I do.’
‘We actually met at a gig in Glasgow, Keith and me. Well, the bar afterwards. Clicked straight off.’
‘Was he always a history buff?’
Samantha nodded. ‘For a while it was the Clearances. There were homes torched around Strathnaver, clearing the land for sheep rearing. The factor was tried for murder but let off.’
‘Landowners are a bit more benign these days. You ever met Lord Strathy?’
‘Just his ex-wife.’
‘You and her get on okay?’ Samantha gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Night Keith died, Ron Travis heard a motorbike.’
‘The guy who owns that backpacker place? Is that why you were asking me about being on the bike with Jess?’
‘I’m just saying what Travis heard…’
‘Really? That’s what you’re doing?’ She shook her head and turned up the music, folding her arms to signal that she wasn’t in the mood for any more talk. Eventually, north of Lairg and with no traffic on the road to speak of, she announced that she needed a pee. Rebus pulled over and she opened the door. He busied himself with his signal-less phone until she returned.
‘Thanks,’ she said. He nodded and made to start off, but she gripped his left arm, causing him to turn and make eye contact.
‘I know you think I did it. It won’t stop you trying to cover up for me or put someone else in the frame, but I know that’s what you think.’
‘Samantha…’
She thumped her closed fist hard against her chest. ‘It’s like you fired a bullet at me and it hit me right here.’
‘Speaking of guns, there’s an old revolver missing from The Glen…’ He was about to say more, but she was already flinging open the door.
‘Enough!’ she yelled, beginning to stride down the road ahead of the car. Rebus started the engine and followed her. He knew how thrawn, how determined she could be. He lowered the passenger-side window and drew level with her. For a moment, he thought she might leave the roadway altogether and start tramping through the bracken.
‘You need to get home to Carrie,’ he said. ‘Know how long that’ll take on foot?’
‘I’ll hitch.’
‘Just get in. We don’t have to talk. You don’t have to look at me. I’ll just drive.’ He pulled ahead of her and applied the brakes, watching in the wing mirror as she approached. She passed the car and went another twenty yards or so, but then came to a halt. Rebus stayed where he was, waiting. Eventually her shoulders slumped a little and she turned on her heel, getting back in and fussing with the seat belt.
‘I loved him,’ she said, as much to herself as to her father.
‘I know that,’ he replied quietly, easing his foot down on the accelerator.
‘And I didn’t do it.’
Rebus nodded but said nothing. Did he believe her? He wanted to. He needed to. He’d switched off the CD, so the only noise was the car engine. Samantha lowered her window and let the breeze have its way with her hair. Eventually Rebus found some words.
‘I know I wasn’t a great dad. Not much of a husband either. Sometimes I tell myself I did my best, but I know that’s not true.’
‘You were okay,’ Samantha muttered. ‘Remember the mirror in
